Author . 




.&.T 



Title. 



Imprint. 



I»— 473T»-2 O»o 










S:/7S,:jTrr,./.-r;.'.i.'j 



:.:yr7i^'^"^"^'i^":;-^-i 






fsT^w-" "^^YTi 







iRP. 



' ' ' ■ it >i '- " ■ *''" 



i\j: 



- 2ja)^ffi^&2£rtf 



\iL>«j.ki**»ti-. . 



V.! 3 (h< lT *<i J &k» jiJL<. >.xrAi\\^ 






i:5 






l!^ 






•r 



^■■BW^Pff WT;; (jiify (W^wi^r^PT^T^ 



•y'?'?*Vi;.w,(.<|,l> ^", W p;';! , W i r',^ , ^i^ iJW,,v^'; '^•, 



I- 






4 
I 






m 



W/ 









1:5*.. 



r'lr. 



iSfi** 4^ ■ li • 1} . :LiLi^ 



-.^ivaWSu 




'.MAV 1 i;LAl„il iiiAi i'LKLai Hi^AVtiN 






i: 



8 






■"')fc'::V ! ^y! - au«,4 ! ),A^« ' ^5 .»,^^.^,^ yy 



'Jik 



i J 

1 



■ J 



'-^¥F^W^^^^ 







T 






^^'--^Tiiiiitirtii;' 



lL^^ii^^J^v^V4i*ivy:>;iliiLui. . 



'H,r 



yj 



MAY I JOIN 
HE CHOIR LWISIBLE 



gi-:or(;k icliot 



AND OIHKR lAVoKlTK I'OKMS 



'r'i 






ILLUSTRAIED 






I DEC r/ '^884;/! 



BOSTON 
D . L O r H R O r A X D C O M P .A \ \- 

l-KAXKI.IN AND HAWLEY STREETS 



.t. » 



b 






rix' 



.0 ■ 



Cnpyrtj^Iit by 
D. LoTiiROp AND Company 






V 7?^^:^?^7^x ;>r::^^:^^^io^w^^vrr 



r,fc tr vv, «' 






r? 

MAY T JOIN tup: CEIOIR INVISIBLE! Jt' 

OMAY I join the choir iiivi.siblo *•.' ' 

Of those iiinnortal dead who live again y- * 

In minds made better l)y their ])resence ; live r ' 

In pulses stirred to generosity, f[^ 
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
Of miserable aims that end with self 
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, l - ^ 

And with their mild persistence urge men's minds '^'*, 
To vaster issues. , , 

So to live is heaven 

To make undying music in the world. t' 

Breathing a beauteous order that controls i^^ 

pi- • 
With growing sway the growing life of man. Al^ 

So we inherit that sweet purity 

For which we struggled, failed and agonized 

With widening retrospect that bred despair. 

Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued, 

A vicious parent shaming still its child, 

Poor, anxious penitence is quick dissolved; j. 



^{ 



.!^' 



)\ 












MA y I JOIX THE CHOIR IM'ISIBLE ! 






Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies. 

Die in the large and charitable air ; 

And all our rarer, better, truer self, 

That sobbed religiou.-^ly in yearning song. 

That watched to ease the burden of the world, 

Laboriously tracing what must be. 

And what may yet bo better — saw rather 

A worthier image for the sanctuary 

And shaped it forth before the nudtitude. 

Divinely human, raising worship so 

To higher reverence more mixed with love — 

That better self shall live till human Time 

Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky 

Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb 

Unread forever. 






This is life to come. 
"Which martyred men have made more glorious 
For us who strive to follow. 



May I reach 
That pui'est lieaven — be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, 







I* ^■^ * \t^ 






.... r . . 



O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR IX VISIBLE! 

Beget the smiles that hav(! no cruelty. 
Be the s^veet presence of a good diffused. 
And in diffusion ever more intense I 
So shall I join the choir invisible 
Whose music is the sladness of the world. 



1^ 

I*' 

f 






' - 



■•T" 






"' iV/jlk' 



..■. i 



»:» 



j,< 



H(3\Y THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
FROM GHENT TO AIX. 

I SPRANG to the .stirnip. and Joris and he : 
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
••Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts 

undrew, 
" Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through. 
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abi-east. 



4 



Not a word to each (jther ; we kejit the great pace — 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our 

place ; 
I turned in niv saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the check-strap, c^hained slacker the bit. 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
Lokeren. the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
At Boom a great vellow star came out to see ; 



j.^;^ 



rr:z:-z;:^ 




l^ ii y w ^i.ALa5rtftofe<<36fefes3& ^^I^T < k. ^^ ^ ^ I I uT i ' i l' i \ i twi iii ' i> 1 i ' li il i iLtM m . V 







If 



AT AEKbi-Hul Lr LLA] Lb ui A iLDDEN THE SUN. 






I 






*Kj» * *^ _ 



• A. 






■7 r^-«-\.-^>iV 



■^T^r 









HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD XEWS. 

At Diirt'eld 'twas moniing as plain as coukl be; 
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half- 
chime — 
So Joris broke silence with " Yet there is time ! " 






5:' 



At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, 

And against him the cattle stood black e\er3- one, 

To stare through the mist at us galloping ))ast; 

And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last 

With resolute shoulders, each butting awa\- 

The haze, as some bluff river headland its spra\- ; 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear 

bent back 
For my voice, and ihe other pricked out on his track, 
And one eye's black intelligence — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me. his own master, askance ; 
And the thick heavy spume-Hakes, which aye and 

anon 
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 



L * 

irr- 

i 



By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, '• Stay 

spur ! 
Your Roos galloped liravoly. the fault's not in her ; 
^Ve'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick 

wheeze 



IE 



1>; 



*j jv 






HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering 

knees, 
And snnk tail, and horrible heave of the ilank. 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 



■ S. 



So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like 

chaff ; 
Till over by Delheni a dome spire sprung white, 
And " Gallop," gasped Jons, " for Aix is in sight ! 

" How they'll greet us ! " — and all in a moment 

his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was ni}' Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her 

fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim. 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall. 
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without 
peer — 



\*T*»^':*J 



vL 



^ 4;.^-U^aj.>aL^<SitAkifa^^ M^ 



//Oir rilEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 

CIai)ped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, 

Ijad or good, 
Till at length into Aix Ivoland galloped and stood. 



itri • 



And all 1 remember is friends Hocking around, 

As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the 

ground ; 
And no voice l)ut was praising this Roland of mine 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of 

wine. 
Which (the burgesses voted l)y common consent) 
Mas no more than his due who brought good news 

from Ghent. 



> 

I ( 



!. ■ 



IE 



' * ■ 



'^'A-v 



jir,;»» 



> J • 



MOTHER AND POET. 



EAD ! one of tlieiii j^liot by the sea in the east, 
And one of them shot in tlu- west bv the sea. 



D 

) Dead! both ni}' boys! When you sit at tlie feast 

; And are wanting a great song for Italy free, 

i Let none look at V2e' 



Yet I was a poetess only last year. 

And good at luy art for a woman, men said. 
But iJds woman, t/iis. who is agonized lu'i'c 

The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her head 
Forever instead. 



What art can woman be good at ? Oh. vain ! 

What art /*■ she good at, but hurting her breast 
With the milk-teeth of babes, and a smile at the 
pain ■' 
Ah, boys, how you hurt ! you were strong as 
you pressed. 

And / proud b^- that test. 



-7^7'^.'*^^^ ■ -''^•rT-^-^'-»rT:-^r:sng:- 




'r4\ J* j*d ,* '^ ' Y'y'^'' ' .^ 



f 'c 



MOTHER AM) POET. 

Wliat'.s art for a ■woman ? To liold on her knees 
Both darHngs ! to I'l'fl all lliuir arms round her 
throat 
Cling, strangle a little I To sew by degrees, 

And "broidcr the long clothes and neat little coat ! 
To theam and to dote. 









To teach them . . . Tt stings there. I made them 
indeed 
Speak ])lain the word ■'country.' 1 taught them, 
no doul)t. 
That a country's a thing men should die for at need. 
/ prated of liberty, rights, and about 
The tyrant turned out. 



1 1 \ 



And when their eyes Hashed, oh. my beautiful eyes ! 

I exulted ! nay, let them go forth at the wheels 
'Of the guns, and denied not. But then the surprise. 
When one sits quite alone I Then one weeps, then 
one kneels ! 

— God I how the house feels. 



At first happy news came, in gay letters moiled 
With my kisses, of camp-life and glory, and how 



■(:♦ 



IK 



n 



'^a^-rz'^rvr^ 



MOTHER AND POET. 



, J 



Tliey botli loved rae, and soon, coming home to be 
spoiled. 
In return would fan off every fly from my brow 
With their green laurel bough. 






Then was triunijih at Turin. • Ancona was free!' 
And some one came out of the cheers in the street, 

M ith a face pale as stone to say souiothing to me. 
My Gnido was dead I 1 fell down at his feet 
While thev cheered in the street. 



I bore it — friends soothed me: my grief looked 
sublime 
As the ransom of Ita\v. One boy remained 
To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time 
When the iirst grew immortal, while both of us 
strained 

To the heiirht he had gained. 



* -r 



And letters still came — sh.orter. sadder, more strong. 

Writ now but in one hand. I was not to faint. 
One loved me for two . . . would be with me ere 
long. 
And * Viva Italia ' lie died for, onr saint. 
Who forbids our complaint. 






-■^^rwrvrw^'^'-lthWrW 




^W.' 



I ■ I ■ J ' • - '^ 



■•^■t- 




K.M.. ..:>r. Oh THi.M ,>iiwr ii-i 1111. ,-i.v i\ nil. i,\.-i, 
AND ONE OK THEM Sllol' IN THE WEST BY THE SEA. 



J/^ 



i:^' 












I 

(ft 






^^ 



I 













» \^ilt\ *iixi i:»iAij-c»ir.vr.TiT?T-A r^ Ar^-ftnT^^T^ ■>■ 



MOTHER AND POET. 



My Nanni would add. "lie was safe and aware fj^j 

Of a presence tliat turned oif the l)alls . . .was f, ^' 

imprest ^'. 

It was (iiiido hiniself. wlio knew what I could bear, W\ 

And how 'twas impossible, (piite dispossessed, f^^' 

To live on for the rest.' It -** 

\- 

On which, without pause, up the telegrajjli line. |'- ' 

Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta — i<}ii)t. r'_ 

7'ell his muthcr. Ah, ah I -his.' 'their' mother: not Vil 

. • ' J^ -^ 

nnne F/^ , 

No voice says •' m>/ mother ' again to me. What I ^i- 1 

You think (iuido fortrot ? ft-*/ 

/^' 

Are souls straight so happy that, dizzy with Heaven, (.''f 

They drop earth's affection, conceive not of woe? *iv 

I think not. Themselves were too lately forgiven '^^r 

Tiirough that Love and Sorrow which reconciled so '^(T* 
• The Aljove and Below. i.' 

Chri.st of the seven wounds, who louk'dst through ,/■«'' 

the dark \t^ 

To the face of thy mother I consider. I prav. li^ 

How we common mothers stand desolate, mark, 1^'' 

Wliose sons, not l)eing Christs, die with eyes )^-^ 

turned awa}-, 

And no last word to say! ,, 



via? ' .t ^ • 



m 



MOIIU-R AXn POET. 

r.oth hoys (lead I but that's out of luitnre. We all 
Have h.'L.n patriots, yet each liouse must always 
keep one. 
"l\veiv huheeile liewhi- out voacls to a wall, 

Au,l uheu Italy's lua.le. h.r what end is it (lone 
11' we have not a son? 



Ah ! ah I ah 1 when (lacta's taken, what then ? 

\Yhen the fair, wieked .pieen sits no more at her 
s})( irt 
Of the lire-halls of deaih .•rashin-' souls oat of men? 
When your guns of Cavalli. with linal retort. 
Have cut the game short — 

AVheu Venice and Hom(> keep their new juhilee. 
When your Hag takes all Heaven for its white, 
green, and rc(l. 
^Yl„,„ ,,^,„ have your e.uu.try from mountain to sea, 
When King WvUn- has Italy's crown uu his head, 
(And I have my dead) 

What then? Do not nmck me! Ah. ring your 
hells low! 
And hum ycnn- lights faintly. Mn country is there. 
Above the star pricked by tlie last p.ak of snow. 
My Italy's there — with my brave civic Pair, 
To disfranchise despair. 






r 



^^1 . ^^^ « ^^^^ t . 1 1*. t vu^i ?ix&TkiXkYr«2r 



*r*-,A,*.-.- 



MOTHER AXD POET. 

Forgive me. Some women bear ehildreii in strength, 
And bite I)ack the cry of their iiaiu in self-scorn, 

But tlie birtli-pangs of nations will wring us at lenutli 
Into wail such as this ! and we sit on forlorn 
When the man-child is born. 

Dead ! one of them shot by the sea in the west 1 
And one of them shot in the east by the sea 1 

Both! both my boys! If, in keeping the feast, 
You want a great song for your Itah^ free, 
Let none look at me. ! 



.1 ♦ 



'3- 



L-i" 






^' 






NATURE'S LADY. 



I 



THREE years she grew in sun and shower, 
Then Nature said, " A lovelier tiower 
On ea-rth was never sown ; 
This child I to myself will take. 
She shall he mine, and 1 Avill make 
A lady of my own. 



" Myself will to my darling be 

Both law and impulse : and with me 

The Girl, in rock and plain. 

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower. 

Shall feel an overseeing power 

To kindle or restrain. 

'• She shall l.)e sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glei' across the lawn 
{)v up the mountain springs ; 
And hers shall be the breathing balm, 
And hers the silcnei- and the calm, 
Of mute insensate things. 



'_ ^.' ^' triTjl t I^TTi i )^^ , i^P; , r^ 






r 






k<A_*»^-.A.K,.\,K>.i.*NA,ll,A.»,.\,l^ l.*-\ 




SHE SHALL BE SPORTIVE AS THE lAWN. 






I' 

I: 



t 






■ at 






^^^f!l| 



1 
« 1 
*. -i 

♦ "i 










•.. rut.rii*. fv.f.. *'.«... •i>..,vf... ■.-►.. -!•».. .v^. A.,'. A. >...(. 



NATURE'S LADY. 

'• The floating clouds their ^tate shall lend 

To her ; tor her the willows bend ; 

Nor shall she fail to see 

Even in the motions of the storm 

Grace that shall mould the maiden's form 

By silent sympathy. 

" The stars of midnight shall l^e dear 

To her; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place 

Where rivulets dance their waywai-d lound. 

And beauty bom of nnu'muring somid 

Shall pass into her face." 



IS* 






*l 



TO A SKYLARK. 



HAIL to thee, blithe spirit — 
Bird thou never wert — 
That from heaven or near it 
Pourest thy full heart 
Li profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 



Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest, 

Like a. cloud of fire; 

The blue deep thou wiugest, 
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever sing- 

est. 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun. 
O'er which clouds art bright'ning, 
Thou dost float and run, 
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 






WT' 









70 A SKYLARK. 

The ])a]e purple even 

Melts aruund thy (light ; 
Like a star of heaven, 

In the broad daylight 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight — 

Keen as are the arrows 

Of that silver sphere 
Whose intense lamp narrows 

Tn the white dawn clear 
T'ntil WQ hardly see, we feel, that it is there. 

All the earth and air 

With thy voice is loud. 
As, when night is bare. 

From one lonely chjud 
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is 
overflowed. 

"Wliat thou art we know not ; 

What is most like thee ? 
From rainbow-clouds there flow not 

Drops so Ijriglit to see 
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody : — 






I J 



TO A SKYLARK. 



1 ,i 



I 



Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hj-nnis unbidden. 

Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not ; 

Like a high-born maiden 

In a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden 

Soul in secret liour 
With nuisic sweet as love which overflows her bower 



! \ 



Like a glow-worm golden 

Li a dell of dew. 
Scattering unbeholden 

Its aerial hue 
Among the flowers and grass which screen it from 
the view ; 



■■♦ - 



Like a rose embowered 

In its own green leaves, 
.By warm winds deflowered, 
Till the scent it gives 
Makes faint with too much heat these heavy-winged 
thieves ; 



.¥' 






Ai 



-^ '«.. '^ ' "'^ ' 'i^ ' T^i p<*- ^^ ■* ' . 



* . -..*. .».'>. .-^ .•'.% . 



V; ; 




THOU ART UKSliEN, 13UT VET I lltAK TllV SHRILL DELICHT. 






i:» 



l'< 



If. 

' 0- 

If . 
I 



) J 



TO A SKYLARK. 



: J 



1 ,' 



I 



Sound of vernal showers 

On the twhikling grass, 
Rain-awakened tlowcrs — 
All that ever was 
Joyous and clear and fresh — thy music doth surpas 

Teach us. sprite or bird. 

What sweet thoughts are thine: 
I have never heard 

Praise of love or wint» 
That panted forth a Hood of rapture so divine. 



Chorus hymeneal, 

Or triumjilial chaunt. 
Matched with thine, would be all 

But an empty vaunt — 
A thiniT wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 



Li 






What oljjects are the fotuitains 

Of the hapjiy strain ? 
What lields. or waves or mountains ? 

What sjiapes of sky or plain '? 
What love of thine own kind ? wliat ignorance of 
pain ? 



'jt-ild^Lti-iLtLtiktsi:^^;'*- 



*.TvA.-=i*;.*.^. 



-S'' 



TO A SKYLARK. 

With thy clear keen joyance 

Languor cannot be : 
Shadow of annoyance 
Never came near thee: 
Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 

Waking or asleep, 

Thou of death nuist deem 
Things more true and deep 

Than Ave mortals dream. 
Or how could lliy notes How in such a crystal 
stream ? 



Ki 






.<:< 



'i;* 

!:<:* 



y~* 



We look before and after, 

And pine for what is not ; 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is frauuht ; 
Our sweetest songs are those tiiat tell of saddest 
thought. 

Yet. if we could scorn 

Hate and pride and fear, 
If we were things l)orn 
\ot to shod a tear. 
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 



r. ' 
■»*♦ 

i* 









TO A SKYLARK. 

Better than all measures 

Of delightful sound, 
Better than all treasures 
That in liouks are found, 
Thy skill to poet were, thou seorner of the 
1 ground ! 

I 

' Teach me half the gladness 

-' That thy hrain must know, 

Such harmonious madness 
From my liyis would flow 
"A The world should listen then as 1 am listening 

now. 



6. 






>■ ' ' J <jl 



L^ 






J.' 



L ( 






1. ' 

I' 



!:^ 
,'-i 



4^ «:jK.,#.,)ip;,.«i»i..^..'jf^.. a; 













'?^ 







l-}*^i(\- 




v; V'' ^^'. ^; *j.^; v.'.tA';??:'*F;.#'^^^\^' ^'"t-vf-^ ^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 490 746 2 




